


Earth: A Case Study

by Someone_aka_Me



Series: Soulmate AUs [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Humans Are Weird, It turns out Piers makes a terrible alien spy, M/M, You're not supposed to fall in love with your research subjects Piers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someone_aka_Me/pseuds/Someone_aka_Me
Summary: Piers is sent to Earth disguised as a human for research purposes. He's really not supposed to fall in love with one of his subjects.





	Earth: A Case Study

Earth is  _weird_.

It's not like Somar, where Piers calls home. Piers has accepted this. That's the whole point of this, after all. To observe the earthlings in their natural habitat. To understand them, without causing mass panic by showing up in a ship and declaring themselves.

Piers had volunteered without hesitation. He's a scientist — a biologist, nominally. But the growing field of comparative biology lured him in.

Earth is not the first planet they have found. It probably won't be the last.

But it is one of the strangest. Earthlings have their hearts in their chests, protected by thin bones that so easily fracture and puncture, instead of nestled into the curve of the pelvic bone, untouchable by any but the worst injuries. They rely on the flora of their planet to produce the very chemicals they need to breath, instead of being able to synthesize them from anywhere.

At first, Piers observed these differences and thought them weak, fragile things. Somarians are much sturdier.

And sometimes earthlings live up to Piers' first impression. They throw themselves off bridges with only a tiny cord to hold them up. They are foolish.

But they are also kind.

As a species, they primarily pair bond — though some of them are driven to seek more or less than a single partner as well. Most of them find their partner through what they call a soul bond. When they are in their formative years, they develop a mark, a sharp colour contrast to their skin. When they meet the one with whom they will soulbond, the mark moves, as though it's reaching out toward their partner.

Few of the earthlings seem to question this. Piers wants to know if the soulmates are predestined, or if the marks take into account the emotions of the bearer.

But the earthlings don't seem to know.

They really aren't a very technologically advanced species.

But that doesn't make them any less fascinating, and so Piers has made it his mission to experience as much of Earth as he can.

Which is why he's currently at a West Ham football game with Dudley, the earthling who is his "friend". Earthlings place a great deal of value on friendships, and Piers is pleased that he has managed to procure one. Dudley is a prime specimen of humanity. He is loud and often illogical and sometimes cruel, particularly during his formative years. But he is also capable of great kindness, particularly directed toward those he has decided are worth his attention.

The football game, however, is less pleasing. It's loud, and all of the earthlings are screaming, and many of them have their skin painted in the colours of the Rymidians, which is weird to see because they are many, many light years from Rymid.

He is watching everything with sharp eyes and taking mental notes and screaming when Dudley screams, and it's fine, it's all fine, until suddenly he is soaked in a solution of sucrose.

He looks up, and there is a male earthling looking at him in horror. He has the dark skin of those whose ancestors lived in the high sun, and his hair is cropped short.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" the earthling says. "Fuck, I didn't mean to spill my coke on you. Jesus, that's gotta be sticky, shit."

Piers blinks at the man. It is, indeed, quite sticky. He does not understand the earthling propensity to imbibe sucrose more often than is necessary, but it certainly makes a better drink than an addition to Piers' lap.

"Look, man," says the earthling. "Can I at least… buy you some sweatpants so you don't have to sit in that?"

Piers is  _mostly_  sure his earthling disguise will hold up despite prolonged sucrose contact, but he's not sure he wants to risk it.

"Thank you," he says.

The earthling reaches out a hand to help him up, but then he stares down at his own hand in awe.

White spirals are branching out from each of his fingertips, coming together in an intricate knot on the back of his palm.

They are reaching toward Piers.

The earthling stares at the marks.

Piers stares at the marks.

His earthling disguise has a static black twist on his left biceps, under his shirt sleeve. It will not move, because it is not real.

Piers doesn't have a plan for this.

He didn't think it was possible. How can an earthling mark react to him? He is not even meant to be here.

But the white swirls are reaching out, grasping for him, swelling and moving like an earthling's chest while they breathe.

"Uh," says Piers.

And then he stands, winds deftly through the screaming fans, and disappears.

It is decidedly not the smoothest thing he's ever done.

…

Dean does not expect to meet his soulmate while brining Seamus to his first ever West Ham game.

He definitely does not expect to meet his soulmate, only for his soulmate to promptly  _run away._

He wonders if it's a bad thing that he's hoping the other man just has his own issues and isn't a raging racist.

He wonders if he'll ever get a chance to find out. Finding his soulmate once was hard enough — it took him twenty-three years. Now he has a face but no name and no idea how to track him down.

Until the man at the other end of the bench looks away from the game and then looks around, and Dean realizes they must have been together.

"Hi," he says.

The man looks at him like he's grown tentacles. Dean forges ahead.

"Was that your friend? Dark hair, tall, bit stiff?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Right. I'm Dean," Dean says.

"Dudley?" It's presumably a statement, but the man looks utterly confused still, so it comes out closer to a question.

"Hi, Dudley." And why does a name that  _stupid_  sound weirdly familiar? Dean shelves that thought. "Look. Uh. I think I may have inadvertently scared your friend off. I dumped my coke on him and then my soulmate bond reacted."

He shows Dudley his arm, where the white knots are still faintly straining in the direction the man had run in, but even as he does so they stop, settling back into their familiar twist on his forearm. The distance sensitivity on soulmate marks is… not ideal.

Dudley's confusion eases. "Ah, yeah. Piers is a bit funny about them. He always asks questions, but we've been best mates since we were young and I've still never seen more than a second's glimpse of his."

Piers. His soulmate's name is Piers.

And he doesn't like soulmarks.

Dean shifts, uneasy. "Look, I… Can you just give him my number? I'll leave it up to him to text or call or whatever, I just… can't let this go."

"Sure," Dudley agrees, and Dean writes his number out on a gum wrapper he has in his pocket with a pen borrowed from a woman in front of him and then hands it over to Dudley.

And Dean can only hope that Piers will reach out.

…

_From: 44 7506 849204_ _. Hi. This is Piers. I got your number from Dudley, and I just… I'm sorry for running._

_To: Piers_ _. It's okay. Soulmates are weird, I get it._

_From: Piers_ _. I really don't think you do._

_To: Piers_ _. Explain it to me?_

_From: Piers._ _I'm not sure I can. Especially not via text._

_To: Piers_ _. Does that mean you'll meet me face to face?_

_From: Piers_ _. You may have noticed I'm not the best at face to face._

_To: Piers_ _. I'm not sure what you want._

_From: Piers_ _. I'm not sure what I want either._

_From: Piers_ _. But I'm curious._

_From: Piers_ _. It's always been my fatal flaw._

_To: Piers_ _. Can we at least keep texting?_

_From: Piers_ _. Of course._

…

Piers knows it's foolish.

It's almost as foolish as the earthlings.

But he can't help himself. He wants to know. He wants to understand why he has been linked to this earthling in particular.

He is not supposed to form emotional attachments to his subjects, but… well. He is already failing that with Dudley.

But a soulmate is different than a friendship. Most soulmates become mated pairs.

Piers is not meant to stay on Earth forever. He cannot — the normal human life cycle is much shorter than his own, and the humans would notice if he continued living well past the age they expected.

He is meant to return to Somar, to find a desired mate there. To procreate, for Somarians are far less prolific than earthlings. Each mated pair can produce only two offspring (with the very occasional lucky pair producing three), and thus to maintain the population, every eligible member must mate.

He cannot be what Dean expects, and so he should not have reached out.

But he did.

Despite this, Piers does not intend to move beyond text conversations, no matter how much more he would learn. He does not dare.

Dean would know his soulmark is a fake immediately. And then Dean would ask questions Piers cannot answer.

Best if they keep it to text. They can be… friends.

…

Dean doesn't know what to do with this.

His soulmate is a Muggle who seems half-terrified of him.

Dean wants to respect his wishes, but he also wants to seek him out and demand answers, get to know him, see what he loves and what he hates and what he tastes like. He wants to see his mark reach out again, yearning for contact.

He's not, however, looking forward to the conversation about magic. Legally, he's allowed to have it — soulmates are an exemption in the same way spouses are. He's just… not sure it's going to go well. Especially when Piers took one look at him and bolted.

How do you tell your soulmate that you live in an entirely different world? That you're so fundamentally different from them?

Dean doesn't know.

…

Dean will swear up and down to everyone who will listen that he  _honestly_  forgot Harry's cousin was named Dudley.

(In retrospect, this does explain why that  _stupid_  name was familiar.)

He's honestly not thinking about his soulmate for once. He's thinking about Harry, and about Ron saying Harry needed a night out with all the lads, because he was sitting at his cousins' flat and moping after his breakup with Ginny.

So Dean and Seamus go with Ron to round him up and take him out.

Except that Harry doesn't answer the door.

_Piers_  does.

Dean blinks at him.

Piers blinks back.

"Um," says Dean. He's really hoping someone else breaks up this awkwardness soon because he's really not sure he wants to know how long he's capable of standing here stammering.

"Harry," Seamus calls into the house. "We're taking you out! Get dressed!" Seamus then turns to Piers. "You can come, too."

Piers looks at Seamus, and then back at Dean.

Dean shrugs.

"I think I will," Piers says, but then he wanders away and won't look at Dean until they reach the bar.

When they get to the bar, though, Piers corners him and drags him to a table in a dark alcove and Dean is getting  _whiplash_  from the way Piers is screwing with his emotions, intentionally or not.

"What the hell, man?" he says, a bit more angrily than he meant to, especially for their first real conversation.

Piers looks… sheepish. "I am sorry," he says. His hands are folded in his lap, but Dean's are on the table, and his mark is writhing on his left hand, reaching out for Piers.

Dean softens a bit at the apology, because he's never been able to hold his anger for long.

"Can you just… tell me what's going on in your head?" This time it comes out less accusatory, more broken.

Piers bites down on his lip, tension clear in his posture.

…

There is a lot going on in Piers' head, but most of it he cannot tell Dean.

"I am… not exactly made for relationships," he says. It's something he's heard Dudley say before, and it's close enough to the truth. He is certainly not made for relationships with  _earthlings_.

"I'm not… asking for anything, yet. I just want to have a chance to get to know you."

"Okay," Piers says after a pause, because he is still all-too-curious.

Dean smiles. "Good." But then he shifts, somewhat uneasily. "Look, if we're going to… I don't know where this is going, but I think we should start on honest ground, so there's something I need to tell you and I need you not to freak out."

Piers blinks, because what on Somar could Dean be referring to?

Dean takes a deep breath, exhales, and then says, "I'm a wizard."

Piers blinks at him. He had thought wizards were an earthling myth, or else a tale of another species from the galaxy which had once thought to cohabitate on Earth. He certainly has seen no evidence of them.

But then, he supposes, there is also no evidence on Earth of he himself, or his entire planet, so… earthlings not knowing about it does not mean anything is impossible. Not by a long shot.

"Oh," Piers eventually says. Dean stares at him, shocked.

"Oh? That's it."

Piers shrugs. "There is very little about this planet that surprises me, anymore."

He immediately regrets the way the words come out — they're too telling, too candid. But Dean doesn't seem to catch it.

"Ooooo… kay?" Dean says, stretching the word to a seemingly impossible length. "So that's… okay?"

"Do you… not want it to be?" Piers asks. He's confused now. He thought acceptance was supposed to be easy, but Dean just seems confused and mildly upset.

"Of course I want it to be! It's fine. It's… I just… You're not going to tell me I'm crazy? That I should be locked up? Make me prove it?"

"You seem of sound mind," Piers says. "Uh… thank you for telling me?" he adds when Dean still looks confused.

"You're not quite normal, are you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Piers says quickly, wondering if he's given himself away. But Dean just laughs.

…

So Piers is weird. And their start was a bit rocky. But the rest of the night is great conversation, which means Dean can forgive all the weirdness and the running away and the elusiveness. Piers is clever as hell about most things but oblivious to the weirdest things. Dean has to explain the concept of orphanages to him, and yet he seems capable of highly advanced mathematics  _in his head_. He asks all kinds of questions about Dean's art, and requests to see a portrait series he's been working on. He's inquisitive and awkward and Dean's already kind of falling for him, because Dean has always fallen hard and fast.

This is maybe not ideal, because he told Piers he just wanted to get to know him, but… well. They're soulmates. Dean thinks it will work out.

But then they stand up and Dean looks down in the space between them and his own soulmark is bright white and reaching, straining toward Piers but Piers' hands are blank. Just white, with a pair of moles.

"I'm not your soulmate?" The words come out more hurt than he means them too, wounded an aching. He doesn't understand.

Piers looks panicked.

"I… uh," he says.

…

_How does Piers still not have a plan for this?_

His gut instinct is to cut and run again, but Dean knows how to find him now.

More than that, Piers doesn't want to run. He likes Dean. He loves their texts, and it's only better now that they've talked in person.

But he hates hearing the hurt in Dean's voice.

"I'm not an earthling," spills out of his mouth before he can think, and  _what on Soran?_  He's managed to keep this secret for twenty years without telling a soul, but the moment Dean looks slightly wounded it comes piling out? What is  _wrong_  with him?

(In retrospect, this is exactly why they nearly failed Piers out of the program in the first place. He's really not… great under emotional pressure.)

Dean stares at him. " _What_?"

Piers could backtrack. He could probably save this.

He doesn't really want to.

"I'm from a distant planet. I'm here to observe. I don't… have a real soulmark, and this is why I'm  _not meant to fall for you_."

He is so fired. He shouldn't be saying any of this. But Dean's soulmark is reaching out for him and Piers has to believe there's a reason.

He wants a chance to learn it. He wants to stay and see Dean's portraits and watch his soulmark move on his skin and he wants to fall in love.

He's not supposed to want any of this.

But he does.

He holds himself coiled tightly, waiting for Dean's response.

"Oh," Dean says eventually, and Piers smiles.

…

Piers definitely gets fired.

But that's all right, because they make Dean sign a contract that he won't tell anyone, and then they let Piers stay.

Dean shows him the portrait series.

Dean shows him France and Spain and South Africa.

Dean shows him his bed.

Dean shows him what it means to be loved.

It's well worth losing his job.


End file.
